


Cooking Lessons

by creativityobsessed



Category: 30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい | Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! (TV)
Genre: Cooking, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, I swear this is the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written, M/M, absolute mush, do not blame me for the sugar rush you're about to get I did warn you, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativityobsessed/pseuds/creativityobsessed
Summary: Kurosawa offers to teach Adachi to cook after he offhandedly mentions that he wishes he knew how. Through the cooking lessons, Adachi discovers some things about himself, and about what he wants.
Relationships: Adachi Kiyoshi/Kurosawa Yuichi
Comments: 50
Kudos: 260





	Cooking Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my beta [unacaritafeliz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unacaritafeliz)! If you lived closer, I'd cook for you more often!
> 
> As someone who mostly cooks Western food, I may have made some unintentional assumptions about cooking methods in Japan. I apologize whole-heartedly, and will happily fix them if you let me know.

“Adachi?” Kurosawa asks as they’re washing dishes one night, “Were you serious earlier, when you said you wished you knew how to cook?”

Adachi pauses in the midst of running a soapy sponge over the bowl in his hands. He’d said it without really thinking, impressed at how Kurosawa is good at everything and thinking of how the best he could do is convenience store ramen. But, even though it had been an offhand comment, that didn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t true.

“Of course!” he says, “You look so cool when you cook.” In fact, in the month that they’ve been dating, watching Kurosawa cook has become one of his favorite things. His hands are always so deft and sure, whether he’s chopping, or frying, or anything else. He never measures, doing that raise-and-lower pour thing that he’s seen chefs on tv do, just adding sauces and spices by eye. Sometimes they’ll talk as he’s working, and Adachi loves the way that he focuses on what he’s doing. There’s something so intimate about the way he responds clearly and carefully, making all the expressions he’d make while they were talking normally, but never taking his eyes off the food he’s making. And it doesn’t hurt that Adachi has recently realized that he really likes looking at Kurosawa with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an apron on. He doesn’t examine that thought too carefully, not quite ready to acknowledge what it means.

Kurosawa bumps his shoulder gently, and Adachi shakes his head, returning to scrubbing the bowl in his hands. 

“What were you thinking about?” Kurosawa asks, “That was some smile.”

“Oh, um. Sorry. Nothing, really,” Adachi says, his cheeks burning. Kurosawa gives him a disbelieving look, but takes the bowl and begins drying it without pushing.

“Well, whatever it was, I don’t think you heard me,” Kurosawa teases, “Would you like me to teach you?”

“Teach me? Oh. To cook. Um, I’m sure I’d be no good.”

“That’s the point of teaching, isn’t it?”

Adachi looks up, and Kurosawa’s face is open, no signs of judgement. He honestly is offering to teach him how to cook. Adachi blinks, not used to the thought that if he expressed interest in something, someone might just make it happen.

“What would that look like?” he asks.

“I mean, I’m not going to give you homework or anything,” Kurosawa jokes, “The easiest way to learn to cook is to just do it. I figured you could learn the way I did, by helping someone else.”

“Who did you help?” Adachi asks, returning to the sink full of dishes.

“My grandmother, mostly. She loved to cook, and since my parents were pretty busy they were happy to let her. Although my dad always did Dorayaki for special occasions, and he let me help him with that too. By the time I was in high school, I was doing most of the cooking, and Grandma was helping  _ me _ \- her arthritis had gotten bad enough that it was hard for her to do lots of the important steps.” 

“Mm,” Adachi nods, “That sounds really nice.”

“Really?” Adachi looks up at the excitement in Kurosawa’s voice. He’d meant it to be about Kurosawa’s story, but it’s immediately obvious that Kurosawa took it to mean he thought it’d be nice to learn to cook. Well, it wouldn’t be  _ bad _ , maybe, if he’s just helping. Still…

“Oh, I meant your story. I wouldn’t want to ruin your cooking with my poor skills,” he says.

“I won’t let you, I promise,” Kurosawa says, and he lays the dish towel over his shoulder to put a hand on Adachi’s arm. Adachi just barely keeps himself from jumping away. Last night, when he’d been hesitant about staying over for more than one night in a row, Kurosawa had laid a hand on his arm just like this and Adachi had heard  _ -seems to make him trust me a little more, maybe if I just lightly put my hand here, he’ll realize that I don’t have any hidden motives or anything _ . He was right, of course, that is exactly what Adachi had needed, and it is  _ seriously _ unfair that Kurosawa is able to figure these things out without even reading his mind.

Now, however, he’s not getting words, just a storm of images of them in the kitchen together,  _ standing over a hot stove, then getting into a flour fight, then Adachi with his arms around Kurosawa as he-  _ This needs to stop, so Adachi does the first thing he can think of and takes a handful of bubbles from the sink and wipes them on Kurosawa’s nose. He jumps back and blinks, crossing his eyes to look at the clump of bubbles clinging to the tip, and Adachi starts to giggle. 

“Oh, it’s on!” Kurosawa says, and he rushes towards the sink. Adachi steps in front, still laughing, and trying to run interference. They wrestle for a few moments before Kurosawa takes advantage of his height and reaches around to grab a full handful of bubbles and plops it squarely on top of Adachi’s head. He can feel a few drops of warm water slipping down his scalp. Kurosawa has frozen in place, his face only inches away, with a mischievous grin on it. Adachi decides not to think too hard about why his heart is beating so fast, and swiftly scoops his hands behind him to try and grab more bubbles. As soon as he does Kurosawa darts away, and Adachi chases after, hands dripping all over the floor. 

They continue this way for a few minutes, until they’re both breathless and giggling. Adachi never does catch up to Kurosawa - his legs are longer. When he finally tells Adachi to stop, bending over to put his hands on his knees, Adachi puts his hands up, the last few bubbles slipping down his wrists. 

“We should- We should finish the dishes,” Kurosawa says, between panting. 

“After you,” Adachi gestures, and Kurosawa heads back to the sink. As he goes past, Adachi plants his wet hand in between his shoulder blades, leaving a soggy handprint on Kurosawa’s shirt. Kurosawa twists and grabs his wrist, but the damage is already done.

“Gotcha!” Adachi says with a huge grin. 

“Ok, you win,” Kurosawa says, stepping forward. Adachi looks up into Kurosawa’s eyes, and his breath catches. Is he going to-?

His eyes are certainly smouldering, but Kurosawa’s thoughts are a little more tame.  _ He’s so cute when he relaxes. I’m so glad that he feels like he can play around me. With me. I want to do this some more.  _ Ah. So he’s actively trying to tease, then. That doesn’t work as well when Adachi can hear what he’s actually thinking. He smirks.

“I thought we needed to finish the dishes?” he asks, and he makes an effort to keep his tone of voice as innocent as possible.

_ Oh now  _ that’s _ not fair! Since when is he not affected? Should I try harder? _ Kurosawa brings up his other hand to rest on Adachi’s waist, and the spot where he places it burns at his touch. 

“I could be persuaded otherwise,” Kurosawa purrs, and Adachi's stomach feels like he’s just gone over a hill in a roller coaster. He’s had enough of being daring for tonight, so he pushes Kurosawa away with a laugh and heads back over to the dishes.

“Seriously, though,” Kurosawa says as he makes his way back over, “If you want to help me cook you can. I’ll teach as we go.”

Adachi pauses.  _ What’s the harm really? _ He thinks, and then before he can talk himself out of it, he agrees.

* * *

The next time Adachi comes over, Kurosawa presents him with his own apron. They settle into a routine, Kurosawa giving directions, and Adachi doing what he says as best he can. The first few meals this way take longer, because Adachi has to be shown everything, from where the ingredients are stored to how to use the knife properly. Eventually, it becomes easier, and they are able to work together seamlessly.

Tonight, Adachi is chopping chicken, while Kurosawa slices an onion at the table. The first time they’d had Adachi chop onions, they’d discovered that his reaction to onions is a very strong one. Ever since, Kurosawa has chopped all the onions, usually across the room from Adachi. He finishes the last few slices and looks up to check on Adachi. He looks very cute, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he carefully slices the chicken on an angle like Kurosawa showed him.

Kurosawa smiles, enjoying the opportunity to observe Adachi without him noticing. He’d been helping Kurosawa cook for a few weeks now, and his earnestness is so adorably breathtaking. He listens fervently and watches carefully, and as a result has picked up most of the basic skills he needs faster than Kurosawa expected. Kurosawa had decided on Oyakodon tonight specifically so that Adachi could see the progress he’s made. If he tells Adachi that he’s cooking his first solo meal tonight, Adachi would panic, but he’s hoping that he can just give him directions and then at the end point out that Adachi did the bulk of the work. 

Adachi is almost done with the chicken, though, so he needs to look at least a little busy so that Adachi doesn’t realize what he’s doing. He grabs a measuring cup and begins measuring out the ingredients for the sauce.

“What next?” Adachi asks as he heads to the sink to wash his hands. 

“We’ll need some eggs. One at a time though. Can you crack an egg in a bowl and beat it?”

“Got it.”

Kurosawa smiles down at the measuring cup. It feels so nice to be in the kitchen with someone again. Since grandma had passed away a few years ago, he hadn’t had the chance to cook with anyone. It’s a kind of casual intimacy that he hadn’t realized he missed, working together to make something that you’ll be able to enjoy when you’re done. He can hear Adachi whipping the egg with some chopsticks and the light sound of wood against glass makes his heart squeeze with missing his grandma. She used to tease him that whoever he married would be so grateful to her for teaching him how to cook so well, and he’s momentarily sorry that Adachi will never meet her to tell her she was right. Perhaps he’d take Adachi by her grave someday.

“Okay, the egg’s ready,” Adachi says, and Kurosawa blinks a few times to clear the memories from his eyes.

Kurosawa walks him through setting up the onions and chicken to poach in the sauce, but he has Adachi do almost everything, even handing him the whisk to stir the sauce one last time before putting it in. Adachi sets the lid on top and turns it down to simmer, leaning over to watch through the glass.

“Now what?” he asks, focused on the pan. Kurosawa hesitates briefly, and then decides he might as well go for it. He slips one arm around Adachi’s front, and hugs him from behind, dropping his chin on his shoulder. 

“Now we wait,” he says quietly in Adachi’s ear, and he can feel Adachi shiver at his breath. He smiles, closes his eyes, and digs his chin in a little. Adachi fits here so well and Kurosawa just wants to hold him forever. Adachi twists in his grasp.

“What’s this about?” he asks. Kurosawa smiles, and refuses to open his eyes.

“My neck got tired, and your shoulder is just the right height,” he protests, snuggling in and enjoying the smell of Adachi’s hair so close. “Is this okay?”

Instead of answering, Adachi just tilts his head back to rest on Kurosawa’s shoulder, and they stand like that over the stove until Kurosawa’s nose tells him it’s time to add the egg.

In the end, the egg is a little well done, but perfectly edible, and the dish is delicious.

“Congratulations,” Kurosawa says as they start eating.

“What?” 

“You just cooked your first meal!” 

“What? But you-”

“I sliced some onions and measured a few ingredients, which, by the way, you are perfectly capable of doing, I just happened to be helping.  _ You  _ cooked,” Kurosawa insists. Adachi looks down at his bowl, his eyes wide.

“But this tastes as good as if  _ you _ did it,” he protests. Kurosawa smiles, enjoying watching Adachi discover what it’s like to be proud of something he did.

* * *

Adachi has been helping Kurosawa cook for nearly two months now, and is finally starting to feel confident in his abilities. Or at least, he hopes this is what confidence feels like, because he’s going to need it today. Today Kurosawa is working a little late because he’s in a meeting to close a big important deal for the company, and so they’d planned not to see each other that evening. Instead of waiting for him, Adachi left work as close to on time as he could pull off without offending Urabe, ran through the grocery store to get the ingredients for Dorayaki, and let himself into Kurosawa’s apartment with the key Kurosawa had given him just a week ago. If he’s lucky, the meeting will take long enough for him to finish up the last few pancakes just as Kurosawa gets home.

He’s helped Kurosawa in this kitchen enough times that finding the flour, measuring cups, and bowls is second nature. He preps everything through the first chill, and, after shoving it in the fridge, suddenly realizes he’s never been in Kurosawa’s house without him before. It’s a strange feeling, kind of empty and a little cold. He shivers a little. 

The weirdness intensifies when he’s standing still, so he wanders, not actively snooping, but taking in the details of the rooms. He stops in front of a picture he’s never looked closely at and leans in. Kurosawa has his arms around a small elderly woman, her hands clasped over his. They’re both beaming - this is clearly where Kurosawa gets his smile. Adachi wonders briefly if this is the grandmother who taught Kurosawa how to cook.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, just in case. 

Just then, the timer goes off, and he jumps. He crosses to the stove and starts a pan heating, and then pulls the batter out of the fridge to do the last few steps.

The pancakes turn out okay - they’re not perfectly round, and a few aren’t quite the perfect golden-brown that the pictures in the recipe show, but as he’s spreading them with Anko, he tastes one, and they seem good enough to him. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, right?

He’s so focused on getting the perfect layer of Anko on the pancakes that he doesn’t hear the door open. The first thing he notices is the thud of Kurosawa’s bag hitting the floor, as he stares in shock. Adachi looks up, and smiles.

“Surprise,” he says quietly, “They’re not quite done, but-”

Before he can finish his sentence Kurosawa crosses the distance between them and wraps Adachi in a hug. 

“I’m covered in flour!” Adachi protests, “It’ll get all over your nice suit, come on, let go.”

“Don’t want to,” Kurosawa mumbles into his shoulder.

“How are you going to eat your Dorayaki, then?”

Instead of letting go, Kurosawa reaches one hand toward the counter behind Adachi and pats around until he finds the plate, picks one up, and takes a big bite, his arm wrapped around Adachi’s shoulder. 

“Likef fhish,” Kurosawa says, his mouth very full. Adachi giggles.

* * *

After the Dorayaki, cooking becomes less about teaching Adachi to cook, and more about spending time together. They’ve started planning meals together, going shopping together, and even though they’re not quite living together, Adachi has thought more than once that they might as well be. It surprises him how much he doesn’t mind that thought.

It’s Sunday night, and this week Kurosawa had suggested doing Onigiri for lunches. Adachi gladly agreed at the time, because it feels like it’s been so long since he’s had one. The poor guy working the truck he used to buy from is probably wondering where he’s been. 

Now, though, Adachi is regretting his enthusiasm. Kurosawa insists that Onigiri aren’t that hard, but Adachi can’t seem to get his hands wet enough, or the right amount of pressure, or, even if both those things go right, the result looks like a messy pile of rice rather than a nicely shaped triangle. He keeps trying, though, placing an umeboshi in the center of the next handful of rice and dipping his offhand in water and salt before carefully pressing the rice around it.

Suddenly Kurosawa leans over and kisses him on the cheek, and the words - _ to marry me _ resound in his mind. His eyes go wide and he drops the Onigiri he was working on. Was he-?  _ Is _ he-? He blinks and looks up to find Kurosawa watching him.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with a smile, “You’re just so cute when you’re concentrating. You stick your tongue out.” Adachi blinks a few times more. He hadn’t noticed he was doing it, but also  _ that is not what is important right now _ . They haven’t even been dating a year - no, they haven’t even quite made six months yet, and Kurosawa is already thinking about  _ marriage _ ? Not only that, but he’s thinking about it before Adachi’s even been ready to make some of his other fantasies come true? What if Adachi is  _ never  _ ready?

“Are you thinking too hard again?” Kurosawa asks, tilting his head to one side, “Can I help?” The conversation where Adachi had admitted to that problem was one of the more difficult ones they’ve had, but Kurosawa has been so good about it since. He often notices when Adachi’s anxiety sends him spiraling out of the moment, and he always asks  _ if _ he can help, rather than offering an immediate solution. Now that he thinks about it, Kurosawa has always been this kind and patient with him, waiting for Adachi to tell him what he needs, and then doing his best to provide it. Kurosawa has changed Adachi’s life, changed  _ Adachi _ , and…

In that moment, he gets it. He understands why Kurosawa is thinking about forever, and he realizes that  _ he wants it too _ .

“Kurosawa?” he asks. Kurosawa just looks at him, waiting patiently. Adachi can feel his heartbeat speeding up, and it’s getting harder to breathe, but now that he’s decided to be impulsive, he’s determined to do it.

“I’m probably not going to do this right. I didn’t plan it or anything. But…” he looks up at Kurosawa, quietly supportive as always. He takes a deep breath and hurries on.

“I’d kind of like it to stay like this forever, you know? The past few months have been… have been the happiest of my whole life. And, I just. I know it’s fast, but, Kurosawa-” he pauses, tries to steady his breath, and looks Kurosawa straight in the eye, “No. Yuichi, will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> As a primarily English speaker, my go-to source for Japanese recipes is [ Just One Cookbook](https://www.justonecookbook.com/). Their recipes for [Oyakodon](https://www.justonecookbook.com/oyakodon/), [Dorayaki](https://www.justonecookbook.com/dorayaki-japanese-red-bean-pancake/), and [Onigiri](https://www.justonecookbook.com/onigiri-rice-balls/) were invaluable to writing this fic.
> 
> If you made it to the end of that absolute syrup-fest, thank you very much for reading!


End file.
